


Joy to the World

by ladydeathfaerie



Series: A Midwinter Night's Dream [10]
Category: Marvel, Marvel 616, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Feelstide, M/M, Mentions of Clint's past, Prompt Fic, a little bit of language, writing this has made me homesick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-09-12 13:04:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9072886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladydeathfaerie/pseuds/ladydeathfaerie
Summary: A day skating on the lake turns disastrous and Clint, ever the hero, puts himself in harm's way. Much against Phil's wishes, of course.

  "Phil. You have to stop. The ice is thin. Its cracking under me even now. I need you to throw one end of the rope to me and then back off. Hold onto the other end and trust me. Please. I know what I'm doing." 


  "Clint..."





	

**Author's Note:**

> written for Feelstide 2016. the prompt was "Skating on thin ice (literal or metaphoric) in the lead up to christmas"

"Its been a long time since I've skated on a lake," Phil said as he glided past Clint. Clint smiled and stayed still, watching Phil for just a little while longer. He was always entranced by how graceful Phil could be when he moved. Especially when they went ice skating. 

"This is my first time," Clint admitted. He'd never had much of a chance to learn growing up. Besides, he'd been all about sleds and toboggans back then. And his father had made it well known, more than once, what he thought of the idea of his sons going ice skating. He had to admit, it was as fun as he'd imagined it to be. 

"You're doing just fine," Phil assured him as he passed by again. Clint wasn't so sure about that. He'd slipped and nearly landed on his ass a couple times when they'd first arrived. It might not have been such a big deal, but there had been people watching and Clint didn't like feeling embarrassed. Left overs from when he'd been an uneducated circus kid on his own in the world for the first time. It had almost been enough to convince him to turn back around and go home, but skating on the lake was something Phil had wanted to do and he'd been kind enough to indulge Clint's desire to go sledding. 

"You're just trying to be nice so that I won't put my cold feet on you tonight when we go to bed," Clint responded, only partially teasing. Phil smiled knowingly and continued to idly skate around the area that had been designated as a rink on the lake.

"Do that again and you'll be the recipient of my cold shoulder," Phil warned. Clint chuckled softly. He was caught up for a moment by the sight of his breath fogging on the air, which gave Phil time to sneak up on him. Before Clint could stop him, the other man had snagged his hand and was pulling him along behind him.

Clint was tempted, if only briefly, to tug his hand from Phil's. People were watching and it was a small town. And there were still people here who knew him, who remembered his father. But the temptation passed as quickly as it came and he allowed himself to bask in Phil's attention. It was his vacation, after all. 

There was a chilly, brisk wind blowing while the sun shone off the snow to make it sparkle and flash. It reminded him of gems that had been left scattered on the floor. Grey clouds lingered on the horizon, promising a fresh fall of snow before the day was out. Despite the cold and the threat of more winter weather, the lake was crowded with skaters and the shore held its fair share of on-lookers. Children's laughter rang out on the air, underscored by the low murmur of adults speaking to one another. He caught snippets of conversation. Talk of the town's upcoming Christmas pageant. Who was sleeping with who. What Mrs. Cullers was baking for the town this year. How hard it was to get and hide gifts for certain curious children. 

Skating on the lake was as much a town thing now as it had been back when he'd been a child. Someone had set up benches for people to sit on, either to idle away their time while their children skated or to put on and take off their skates. Strands of the big outdoor Christmas lights had been strung between the trees, glowing brightly even in the sunlight while festive music played from speakers carefully hidden in those same trees. There was even a small wooden building set up to act as a snack shop. It was run by Jimmy Bulger's family, large enough for two people to move about inside without getting in one another's way. They were selling hot cider, coffee, and cocoa to help warm cold fingers and toes. They also had snacks for sale and there had been a steady stream of people waiting to get something from them since Clint and Phil had arrived.

Cold as it was, cold as Clint was, it was still a wonderful way to spend the day.

"Was it like this when you were a kid?" Phil asked, coming to a stop next to Clint.

"Yes. And no. No one had thought of selling hot chocolate or anything back then. And there were no lights or music. But the benches were there. And it was always crowded whenever we went past." Clint could remember the laughter that had echoed around the area when he'd been a child, always loud and boisterous and inviting. He'd always wondered what he'd been missing.

"Its getting more crowded," Phil commented, one hand motioning to the thickening crowds. "Maybe its time to head back to the farmhouse?" 

Clint let his gaze wander around the area. There were a great deal of adults on the shore, standing around with cups of hot beverages clasped between their gloved hands while they spoke to the people gathered around them. It was mostly children on the ice, though there were a couple of adults here and there. On the one hand, he wasn't sure when he'd get to do something like this again so there was a part of him that was yelling to stay. But on the other hand, it was getting far more crowded than Clint was comfortable with and he was kind of cold. Maybe going home was a good idea. 

He'd barely come to the decision to call it a day when a woman's voice rose above the crowd and brought all chatter and laughter to silence. "Where's your sister, Billy? You're supposed to be looking out for her!" 

"I don't know, Momma!" the boy replied, but there was a hitch in his voice that said he was lying. Clint's eyes found the woman and boy easily enough. She had dark hair that tumbled out from under a stocking cap pulled down over her head, her face a mix of young and old. He could see a few thin lines by her eyes that was likely from smiling and, when she turned to look out over the ice, he saw a very familiar face. Janine Turner. He'd gone to school with her. And he'd had a big crush on her back in the day. The boy looked a lot like her, the ends of hair sticking out from under his own cap just a few shades lighter than hers. His posture screamed of fear, prompting Clint to start scanning the area.

"Billy Jennings, don't you dare lie to me! Where's your sister?" Janine's voice was sharp with anger and worry. 

Whatever Billy said to his mother faded into nothing as Clint found exactly where the missing girl was. The area of the lake that was always used for skating was a small inlet of the whole thing, the shore coming in on either side to create a kind of cove with a narrow entrance into the rest of the lake. It was some distance away and there was a dark spot that was obviously a hole in the ice, just beyond the opening. Clint could see the bright pink of a knit hat along the edge of the ice.

Shit. The water was freezing cold. That little girl didn't have long. "Phil. There's rope in the back of the SUV. Go get it. Someone call for an ambulance!" Clint ordered before taking off across the ice. 

"Barton, don't you dare do what I think you're planning to do!" Phil shouted. Clint didn't listen, certain that Phil would forgive him in the end. And he knew Phil would go get that rope. He just had to hope that he got to the girl before it was too late. 

Voices rose behind him, Janine's sharp against everyone else's. No doubt she'd seen where Clint was going and why. 

Clint's mind raced, his eyes locked to the ice. The closer he got to the child, the thinner the ice became. He could see cracks here and there. They started small and got bigger as he closed in on his goal. 

By the time the ice started to creak under his feet, he was far enough from shore that the noise coming from the crowd was distant and unclear. What he could hear was the girl sputtering in the water and the ice threatening to give away underneath him. He'd seen somewhere that thin ice would hold better if one distributed their weight more evenly on its surface, so he came to a stop and slowly and very carefully got down until he was laying on his stomach on the cold ice. "I'm coming for you, sweetheart. Just hang on," he called as he began inching forward. 

She tried to call for help, but her voice was weak and he could no longer see her hat over the ice. Instead, a pair of pink mittens marked where she clung to the edge of the ice. He moved ever forward, inching his way toward the hole, the whole time praying to whoever would listen that he arrived before it was too late. 

The cracking started when he was a few feet from the hole. There was no way the ice was going to hold his weight for much longer. Phil was going to give him hell for what was likely going to happen, but Clint didn't care. That little girl wasn't going to die if Clint could help it. He could feel the vibrations of someone coming behind him, the rhythmic _shhp shhp_ of a pair of skates sliding across the ice telling him it was Phil. Clint dared a glance over his shoulder to find that Phil was much closer than he'd anticipated. 

"Phil. You have to stop. The ice is thin. Its cracking under me even now. I need you to throw one end of the rope to me and then back off. Hold onto the other end and trust me. Please. I know what I'm doing." 

"Clint..." 

"I know what I'm doing, Phil!" he repeated, hoping that the other man didn't hear the lie in his voice. Knowing Phil, he was already aware of what a big fat pile of horse shit that was. But the vibrations stopped almost immediately. 

"I will thoroughly chew your ass off when this is all over, Clint," Phil promised softly. "Coming on your right." 

That was Phil's way of letting him know he wasn't going to stop Clint. Also where the rope was going to end up. Clint gave a quick thumbs up and pulled his arm in beside him. Soon enough, there was a soft thump as the rope came to rest beside him. Clint took hold of it, wrapping it around his wrist for good measure, and continued forward. 

He'd just gotten hold of the girl's wrist when she let go of the ice. A second later, there was a large crack and the ice gave way underneath him. Instinct saw him pulling the girl in against him as he went under the surface. The water was frigid, the shock of it cutting through his clothing so intensely that he almost let go of the child. But his years with S.H.I.E.L.D. and his place on the Avengers saw his brain kicking into gear. After wrapping his arms around her little body tighter, he curled frozen fingers around the rope Phil had tossed him and pulled on it. 

The slack went taut, telling him that there was someone holding on to the other end. Seconds later, his head broke the surface of the water. He could see Phil and several other men tugging on the rope. A lone man was on his belly on the ice, working his way toward the now larger hole. Clint was so cold, he couldn't stop his teeth from chattering. But he kept his arms locked around the little girl, who was limp in his arms, and kept a mantra of prayers running in his head. 

It took an act of the gods to get them out of the water. The ice kept trying to go out from under them and the cold had sapped Clint's strength from him. But Phil and the men from town refused to give up. It felt like it took an eternity to get the two of them out of the water and onto a sled that would be used to pull them to the shore. It couldn't have been more than five or ten minutes. Once the rescue team had Clint and the girl laid on the sled, the two of them were covered with thermal blankets and pulled to shore. An ambulance awaited them there, as did Janine and Billy Jennings.

The ice had been cleared, everyone clustered together on either side of the ambulance. The crowd was subdued, a few whispers popping up here and there as people spoke to one another, while Janine and Billy stood off to one side and sobbed softly. The entire group looked on as the EMTs pried the girl out of Clint's hold, Phil at his side to promise that they would take good care of her and then to order him to stay put when Clint tried to climb up off the sled. Clint was too tired to argue with Phil about it. Nor did he have the energy to argue when the EMTs loaded him up into the ambulance to take him to the hospital with the little girl. 

~*~

"You're an idiot, Clint. A goddamn idiot." 

Clint sighed and rolled his eyes at Phil. "You've said that a hundred times now."

"Because its true! You're a goddamn idiot!" Phil made sure to put emphasis on his words this time. 

"And you love me for it," Clint replied with a smirk. It was Phil's turn to roll his eyes. But he set the hot soup down on the table in front of Clint before taking his seat. He looked out of place in Clint's hospital room, but that was likely because Phil never looked comfortable in hospitals. 

"I can't imagine why," Phil muttered, prompting Clint to laugh. Much as he hated being in the hospital, he wasn't quite up to arguing with Phil and his doctor that he was fine and capable of going home. 

"Have you got any information on the little girl?" Clint asked, shifting his focus. He'd been unable to stop thinking about her since they'd tugged her from his hold. She'd seemed so lifeless. The idea that he'd been too late had been eating at him ever since. 

"Eat your soup. Then I might take you out for a spin on the floor," Phil replied. Clint shot him a look and crossed his arms over his chest. It didn't escape his notice that Phil's gaze flicked to the bunched muscles in his arms briefly before his eyes shifted up to Clint's face. 

"I'd rather talk about the little girl I risked life and limb for," Clint replied. If his tone was a tiny bit tart, he was sure Phil would excuse him for it. Eventually. Once he forgave Clint for rescuing the girl. Phil glared at him, then heaved a sigh and rose from his seat. 

"Stubborn ass," he muttered loudly enough that Clint heard him. But Phil headed for the door, stepped out into the hall for a moment, then came back in with a wheelchair in his possession. Clint eyed it a moment or two, then pushed the rolling table with its bowl of soup away and threw the covers back. Phil shot him another glare and parked the wheelchair next to the bed. "I should handcuff you to the bed." 

"Don't make promises you don't intend to keep," Clint replied, turning a threat into innuendo. It was enough to earn him a touch of a blush from Phil. But he was polite enough to let Phil help him into the wheelchair, then waited while Phil fussed and tucked a blanket around his legs. It had taken some time to get his body back up to temperature and Phil was not about to take any chances. 

Once Clint was settled, Phil pushed the chair out of the room and into the hallway. The nurses' station was empty, everyone out on their rounds, which allowed Phil to push Clint to the elevator without a crowd. Clint was fairly certain he knew where they were going, but he decided not to press. Despite his outward calm, Phil was as upset as Clint had seen him in some time and it would only get worse if Clint kept demanding answers to his questions. 

He knew that Phil was mad at him for going after the girl, that he'd risked his life in a situation that someone else could have handled. But Clint couldn't have lived with himself if he hadn't tried to help. And he knew that, given time, Phil would forgive him for going off and putting himself at risk for a child in need of help. Hell, it wasn't anything that Phil wouldn't have done. And Phil knew that Clint knew that. He'd get over it. Eventually. And eventually would be sooner rather than later if Clint didn't pour salt into that particular wound. So he remained silent as they rode the elevator up a couple floors. And he remained silent as Phil pushed him up a bright, cheery hallway painted in soothing colors and decorated with happy images. 

The door they stopped outside of was open, and Clint could hear chatter from inside. Phil knocked on the wooden panel to announce their arrival. Moments later, Janine appeared in the doorway. Her gaze slid from Phil to Clint before she gave them a large, welcoming smile. "Please. Come in," Janine said, stepping back while motioning toward the interior of the room. Phil pushed the wheelchair forward, taking Clint into the brightly painted room. 

Janine was sitting in a chair pulled up beside the hospital bed, Billy settled on a couch against the far wall. His nose was buried in a handheld game, but Clint was sure the boy knew they were there. The little girl was in the center of the bed, her hair dark like her mother's. Her cheeks were pale and her eyes dark and large in her face. Clint noticed there was no one else present. Janine reached out and took her daughter's hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Thank you," she whispered, tears welling up.

"Mrs. Jennings," Phil began, but Clint cut him off with a wave of his hand.

"I was happy to help, Janine," Clint told her. She blinked at him, confusion in her eyes. It was obvious she was trying to figure out how he knew her. He gave her a sheepish grin. "We went to school together. I had an older brother named Barney. My name's..." 

"Clint!" she exclaimed, realization dawning. "Clint Barton. Its so good to see you. We always wondered what happened to you and Barney." The last word came with a hint of sympathy. No doubt anyone who'd lived in town at the time remembered what had happened to Harold and Edith Barton.

"Its a long, boring story," Clint replied. Nothing he planned on getting into. Janine didn't need to know how he'd grown up. He'd always felt that the town had a pretty shitty opinion of his family because of what an absolute ass his father had been. There was no way he was going to give her any reason to lower that opinion. "I just wanted to come and make sure that the little one was okay."

Janine's smile was as wide as any Clint had ever seen, tears sparkling in her eyes once again. "She's going to be just fine. Because of you. Thank you, Clint. I don't know what I would have done if I'd lost her." Sadness touched Janine's last words, making Clint think that she'd lost whoever it was that had given her the last name Jennings. "Joy, say hi to Clint. He's the man who saved you from the water." 

"Hi." It took a little prodding from her mother, but the little girl finally spoke that single, shy word. Clint offered her a smile. 

"Hi, Joy. You sure have a pretty name." He leaned forward in his chair, making it look like he was sharing a big secret with her. "And you're really brave. You held on to the ice for as long as you could, even though it was really cold. You're my hero." 

Joy gave him a shy smile and shook her head. "But you're the one who saved me. I'm not a hero. You are." 

"You are absolutely a hero, Joy. I bet your mom is really proud of you," Clint responded. Joy's smile shifted away from shy. Just a little. 

"You're both my heroes," Janine said, her eyes flicking from Clint to Phil and back. "If you hadn't acted so quickly..." 

"We just happened to be there," Phil told her, his tone warm. "And Clint happens to have an idiotic hero complex. Neither one of us could have sat back and waited for someone to come to Joy's rescue." 

"I'm really thankful that Clint hasn't apparently changed since first grade." Janine shot a knowing grin Phil's way. Phil gave her a curious look. Clint blinked, trying to figure out what she was talking about. Before he could come up with anything, Janine was once again speaking. "John Shifton stole my barrette. My favorite barrette. Clint got it back from him. By punching him in the nose when he refused to give it back after being asked politely. Which ended up with him getting in trouble at school."

Clint grimaced. He'd forgotten about that incident until now. He'd been so smitten with Janine, though, that he'd felt it was worth it. He'd gotten in trouble at home, too. "You were crying. I didn't want you to cry. And John Shifton was mean. He deserved to get punched in the nose." 

"It was very sweet of you," Janine replied, her grin growing by the second. "When we're home, I want you both to come visit us. I'll make dinner and you can tell me what you've been doing all these years. Where are you staying? At Donna's Bed and Breakfast?" 

"No. I bought the family farm. Phil and I are staying there." 

Her eyes widened. "You're the one who bought the farm? We'd heard the new owner paid cash but... Wow. You will definitely have to tell me what you've been doing all these years that you can buy an entire farm with cash." 

"You'll be bored. I promise you. My life has been very boring for years now," Clint said. Phil laughed, made it sound like a cough. The way Janine looked at him, she'd likely heard the laughter, too. "I'll make a deal with you. Phil and I will come for dinner as long as you'll let me bring the kids some gifts. Nothing big or extravagant. Just something small and fun. And if you'll also let me bring some homemade dessert." 

"You cook?" 

"I do. I do lots of things," Clint assured her. Phil coughed out another laugh. 

"Its a deal!" she agreed with a smile. 

~*~

Clint and Phil stayed and talked to Janine, Billy, and Joy for a full hour before the girl started yawning widely. When that happened, Phil made excuses for the two of them. After promising again to join them for dinner once Joy was home, Phil wheeled Clint from the room and back toward the elevator. 

"You punched a boy in the nose because he stole her barrette?" Phil asked. Amusement was present in every one of his words. 

"What can I say? I had a crush on her. I wanted her to know I cared." Clint tried not to sound defensive. He was pretty sure he didn't succeed. "I was seven years old." 

"Well, then. That just makes it all okay." A snort of laughter accompanied his words. Clint crossed his arms over his chest and frowned. Searched for something snarky to say in return. No pithy comment was evident. They waited for the elevator in silence. 

Phil waited until they were inside the car and the doors to the elevator closed before he leaned down and pressed a kiss filled with promise against Clint's lips. Clint found himself relaxing just a bit. Phil straightened up and chuckled. "You're still an idiot, though." 

Clint took no offense, just smiled. "I am. And that's why you love me." 

"Yes, I do."


End file.
